The first things that strike me when I look at Euan Macleod's paintings are the layers. The layers of paint, of course, shovelled onto the canvas, scraped and swept around, left battered and bruised, yielding to the artist, and the 'something' he needs to get out. There are frenzies, dissatisfactions, revisions, and breakthroughs buried within each work, freezing the canvas in a state of resonant vigour.

There are also the layers of nuance built into each painting, the different places these works can take you. Euan's work tends not to be overtly conceptual or narrative driven. It seeks, instead, to elicit a personal response from the viewer. There are figures in these landscapes, which provide a reference point and invite reflection. Their intentions are unclear. Their forms are obscured. There is an almost void- like absence of detail, which creates a space into which the viewer can insert themselves. The artist is not telling you what to think, he is inviting you to participate. You can be an occupant or an observer – do you identify with these figures, and the journey they are on, or do they remind you of someone you love? Is that person still with you, or must you conjure them through the haze of memory?

The reading of Euan's work is characterised by concurrence – by the possibility of numerous experiences happening alongside one another. The painting Cave Rock Procession is an interesting case study. It feeds into a conversation about hope and dismay, fate and agency, within Euan's work. As they file towards their destination, are these figures nearing the end of a pilgrimage, inching their weary bones ever closer to some long-anticipated revelation? Or are they being guided by an invisible hand, towards a conclusion they cannot foresee? Do these figures, sharing the same plane, feel a sense of solidarity? Are they buoyed by the company, is their loneliness lifted? Or do they remain closed-off, alien, their loneliness growing more pronounced in a crowd?

One significant interplay at work in …a murmuring cave of the sea… is that between 'internal' and 'external' landscapes. The relationship between these two concepts, the ways they feed into each other, offers critical insight into the technical and stylistic choices made by the artist. The internal landscape refers to the mountains of the mind, the webs you have to untangle, the ground you need to cover, to be at peace. To traverse this terrain is to grapple with worry, responsibility, indecision, regret. It is to compromise, to apologise, to romanticise, and to dream. Some of Macleod's figures seem heavy with the effort of enduring, eyes downcast, feet dragging. Others seem lighter, almost contemplative. We see figures seeking shelter, we see figures drawn to light. There are figures returning to shore, and figures poised, ready to submerge themselves. Do these figures seek to escape the past, or do they seek to reckon with it? No matter the shape or the gravity of the conflicts you must resolve, there are always stones to be overturned, distances to be closed.

To an extent, Macleod's external landscapes are a means to an end, a world for these figures to pass through. They are not merely set-dressing, however. Environments consume these figures, ensuring they exist in relation to their surroundings. Dark, daunting cliffs and sinister skies allow for different possibilities for viewers to explore, than those of golden hills with walkways high above sparkling suburbs. The sense of place is an especially key signifier within …a murmuring cave of the sea…. The paintings here are all based on areas around Christchurch and on the Kaikōura coast. The environments are specific enough for the elements to feel convincing, to anchor these journeys in reality. You can feel the lashing rain, or the late-afternoon chill. And yet, the bones are familiar enough to hint at a non-specific, universal experience of navigating the intersection between the internal and the external.

Alex Thornton